“No man is an island,” I never really understood that phrase. A man is a man and islands have got nothing to do with it. We may live on an island, we may not. All that phrase really does for me is make me think of No.6 the Prisoner and a bearded Tom Hanks searching for another Oscar on a deserted beach. Jokes aside, I do understand that it’s trying to say no-one could live without the company of others, but then again didn’t someone say “Hell is the others”?
Anyway, I just spent a few days with close friends off the coast of Brittany, France, on a small secluded island called the Ile aux Moines. First inhabited by monks (Marcelius de Beaufort?) many moons ago (probably looking for enlightenment or escaping the company of others – God had a lot to answer for in the Dark Ages), it’s only 2km wide by 7km long, cars are prohibited and the water’s cold throughout all seasons. I lie, there is a small fleet of mini vans taxi-ing the various inhabitants and visiting tourists back and forth from the harbour, and a couple of scooters for those too old or cool to peddle a bike. Sidenote: The local doctor is the only one to wear a helmet on her scooter. i think she’s trying to prove a point.
I’ve been to the Ile aux Moines several times now and each time it’s a pleasure because you feel like you can really disconnect from all the background noise and bullshit on the mainland. There’s nothing much to do apart from eat, drink, sleep and breathe in the fresh sea breeze as you walk around the island’s pathways. This winter the weather in Northern France was pretty dismal with little to no sunshine but bucket loads of rain, so apart from one brief excursion (where my friends and I got wet) and a quick bike ride to the local shop for supplies, the three days were spent lounging about listening to music, chatting, and playing games in front of the fire.
You’re probably bored of reading by now (thanks internet induced ADD!), so I won’t keep you any longer. Here are some pictures.
First Name Ralph 